


two punch swing and a fistfight

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, Fireworks, GTA AU, M/M, robberies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ray wants to leave, but he is trapped in michael, and whenever he tries to walk away, he stumbles and falls into michael's arms</p>
            </blockquote>





	two punch swing and a fistfight

**Author's Note:**

> go check out @treycotrash on twitter, she gave me this awesome prompt and she's pretty amazing herself

“Michael, I’ve got to go.” There is smoke curled around the stars above and they are sitting on the rough wood balcony of a safehouse. “I can’t do this.”

“You can’t. Not yet. There’s so much we haven’t done.” Ray blows out a mouthful of smoke in a perfect ‘o’.

“Like what?” There is silence for a few heartbeats and Michael is thinking, thinking, thinking. It’s stupid, and he knows that, that he thinks he can keep Ray here. Maybe if he thinks of something so, so perfect for them to do, Ray won’t leave. He’ll be trapped, ensnared, and somewhere in his mind, Michael thinks that he shouldn’t have to trap his friends, but Ray is more important than any other thoughts.

“We’ve never robbed a dollar store.” And Ray laughs, teetering on the edge between stoned and pleasantly high. His laugh is reedy and echoes in the night and he looks at his best friend.

“Let’s do it.” They take Gavin’s bike because they can and Ray wraps his arms around Michael’s waist and his breath is hot on Michael’s neck, but Michael shivers anyway. They forego helmets and Ray watches the streetlamps’ light flicker over Michael’s face, casting shadows and making him look war-worn and older. Ray smiles and holds Michael tighter, he doesn’t know why, it’s a need, an urge he needs to answer. The Dollar General has poor fluorescent lighting and it looks old and worn. The girl behind the counter is chewing gum and pulling on her ponytail. Her eyes widen as Michael pulls his gun and she hands over the money, rings on her fingers shining dully. Ray is running through the aisles, gathering something in his pillowcase. Michael tucks his gun back into his coat and gives the girl a thumbs up as Ray slings an arm around his shoulder. They drive away and then the streetlamp light is overpowered by blue and red.

Ray unhooks one arm from Michael and slips the gun from Michael’s jacket, he bends backward in a gymnast feat. He shoots a round at the tires of the cop cars and Michael cackles wildly and Ray joins in. Michael drives quicker and somehow they end up at the beach, motorcycle tracks in the sand disappearing into two sets of footprints. Michael counts the money, 437 dollars, a surprising amount for a dollar store. He shoots a glance at Ray who is smiling and looking into his pillowcase.

“What’d you take?” Ray licks his lips and upends the bag onto the damp sand. Michael stares at the pile and then laughs. There is package after package of magic animal growing capsules. Ray tears one open with his teeth and spills it into the dark foamy water. Michael does the same.

Thirty minutes later and there are shapes lapping against the coast. Ray laughs and picks one up.

“I got a rhinoceros.” Michael picks one carefully from the roiling ocean.

“A velociraptor.” Michael moves his hands, imitating claws and Ray laughs. They collapse, wheezing onto the wet beach and they watch the lights from the pier move and spin.

They don’t get back until it’s four a.m. and Jack berates them but they’re tired so they nod through the lecture and collapse in their respective rooms.

-

“I’ve got to leave.” They are on Mount Chilliad and it is cool. Ray is wrapped in one of Michael’s old sweatshirts and he looks down as he speaks.

“You can’t. There’s so much we haven’t done.” Michael protests.

“Like what?”

“We’ve never watched fireworks from here.” And Ray smiles at him.

“Do you think about this a lot?” And Michael wants to say of course, of course I do, I think about you all the time, you are always on my mind, you can’t leave, what will I do, what will I do when you are away and gone, I will wilt and die, and you must stay, you must, you must. But Michael swallows back the confession and says instead.

“No, you idiot.” He hops from the hood of his car and pops the trunk.

They shoot fireworks into the sky and watch as they explode, fizzle, and scatter. Michael puts his arm around Ray’s shoulders as they watch the ash fall and the confession bubbled back into his mouth, but he swallows his tongue. Their breath is heavy in the air and Ray realizes that the sweatshirt he has on smells like Michael’s cologne and he curls further into it.

-

“I have to go.” Michael shakes his head.

“You can’t. There’s so much we haven’t done.”

“Like what?” He is slowly dooming himself.

“We’ve never had a picnic.” And together they pack a wicker basket of food, ignoring strange looks from Gavin, and they drive out of the city, farther, farther away. The earth is dusty and they cough, so they drive even farther, listening to horrible pop songs and relaxing into each other. Eventually, they find a place and they eat in comfortable silence. All Michael can think about is Ray, all he can think about is how he will miss him, all he can think about is how dear Ray is to him.

-

"I'm gonna go." Their breath is fogging in the air and they are sprawled across Michael's car, Ray's head on Michael’s shoulder, Michael's hand in his hair. 

"You can't." Michael protests, "There's so much we haven't done." 

"Like what?" Ray asks, he does it every time. In the back of his mind, he knows he is putting off the indefinite, perpetuating the slow push and pull of Michael and himself, caught in a dance-like war. 

"We've never kissed." And Ray looks up at Michael as Michael looks away. He sits up and Michael follows him, red-faced and ready to drive away from the desert and forget the whole night. Ray grabs his hand with his own calloused fingers, and it is as if they fall into each other, mouth to mouth, and nothing else matters. When they break apart Michael is laughing hysterically and Ray follows suit. They lay back together in Michael's car, hands intertwined and looking at the stars. Their hearts are beating as one and in the dance they dip and fall back and lunge forward, but they are always in contact with the other.

-

“I’m leaving.” It is late and dark.

“You can’t. There is so much we haven’t done.”

“Like what?” He is doing this to himself.

"We've never danced." And Ray wants to protest,  _ but we have. We are caught in the steps and your knife is at my throat but i trust you and you won't hurt me. It is dangerous and passionate and dear, Michael, I love you. Your hands are too warm against my skin and you spin me around again, confusing me so I simply can not go. But my love, I must.  _ But Ray consents and on top of a building, Michael and Ray dance. They slide against each other smoothly, like they've been doing it their whole life, and perhaps they have. The moon is not full but the stars are bright and they never misstep, never stumble. They trust each other as they dance in the night. Ray wants to say something, he almost needs to, but instead he smiles into Michael's neck and longs for the dance where the knife is at his throat because that would be far less painful.

-

“I have to go.” They are collapsed against each other, sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen.

“You can’t. There’s so much we haven’t done.”

“Like what?” It slips out unbidden and the words hang in the still air.

“We’ve never played laser tag.” And it’s so ridiculous, so so ridiculous, and Ray laughs and falls off the stool and onto the floor.

They invite the crew this time and they get odd looks at the laser tag place. They’re just six grown men standing in their socks surrounded by fourteen year olds, nothing odd there, nothing at all, nope, nope, nope. They divide into teams, Lads versus Gents, and all hell breaks lose. 

Ray and Michael end up hiding behind the same barrier, panting in the chaotic battle field.

“We’ll go out together, yeah?” Michael says, and the question has so much weight and so much more meaning than just a dumb game of laser tag.

“Of course.” And they charge, shooting wildly, and they end up back to back in the middle of the dark room. They manage to take out Geoff and Jack before they fall, but Ryan kills them both. They look at each other in the neon light for a second too long, and then they look away.

-

“I’m leaving.” They are back on the roof and it is windy and they sky is grey.

“You can’t.” And Michael is looking at the people milling around far below them.

“Why not?” This is different and Ray knows, knows something is off. Michael looks Ray dead in the eyes.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Ray chokes, words caught in his throat. It’s always been we, things that we haven’t done, haven’t seen. And now if he leaves there will be no more we, no more us, only Michael on his own. They sit together on the roof, hands clasped tightly.

-

Ray is cleaning out his room in the dead of night. He is leaving, he has to. He’s put it off for two years but not anymore, not any longer, he has his plane ticket in his pocket. And he’s going over everything one last time, and then he sees a box on his floor. It’s small, right next to his door and there is a letter on top of it. He opens it, and it’s written in Michael’s loopy handwriting.

 

_ we have done so many things _

_ we robbed a dollar store _

_ we shot fireworks from mount chilliad _

_ we kissed _

_ we danced together on top of the bank _

_ we played laser tag _

_ we got in a fistfight with a bunch of thugs _

_ we almost blew up the penthouse _

_ but there are so many things we have not done _

_ we haven’t watched the sunrise together _

_ nor the sunset _

_ we haven’t seen a meteor shower _

_ we’ve never gone to a concert _

_ we’ve never gotten married, but we could fix that right away _

There is a noise at the door and Ray looks up. Michael is standing there, the small box in his hands. Ray chokes out a small noise and throws his arms around the redhead. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Ray whispers into his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to check me out on twitter @RunawayCaboose or check out Is Your Shirt Inside Out by Mccafferty, the song i got the title from


End file.
